


The Brothers Dagoth

by Fa-Nuit-Hen (cliffracerx)



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Chimer, Dysfunctional Family, Elder Scrolls Lore, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Great House Dagoth, House Dagoth, House Dagoth Lore, Morrowind, Resdayn, Sixth House, first era, headcanons, well. not all fluff but mostly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliffracerx/pseuds/Fa-Nuit-Hen
Summary: A collection of short stories and drabbles involving the siblings of House Dagoth, most of which take place before The First Council really came together. (Some of these are previously posted works that I've decided to put into one place.)





	1. The Firebrandy Debacle

Normally, Voryn would never deign to pollute Endus’s precious brandy–not least with the distilled essence of the kagouti-pepper, but the circumstances had been, as Endus explained, somewhat dire, thanks to a pretentious gaggle of Hlaalu traders who put no end to their harassment campaigns until Endus allowed them exclusive trading rights as it concerned the House brandy.

During a previous encounter with these traders, Endus had engaged them with carefully-feigned diplomacy though he came to Voryn in secret to entreat him the very next day, for Voryn had recently been named Grandmaster, and it was necessary for him to have the final say in such matters (or be aware of them, at the very least.) Endus, as Voryn learned, had no desire to make trade with them. A relieved Voryn assured his brother that he’d concoct with a solution, seeking to soothe his brother’s anxiety with the words _“I’ll take care of it.”_

That evening, Voryn’s brilliant little scheme had played itself out nicely. He’d worked with Araynys to distill the essence of the infamously spicy kagouti-pepper, with which they polluted certain batches of brandy. Perhaps if the traders believed the brandy unpalatable, they’d leave poor Endus alone. The pepper-infused brandy was then served to the traders at a dinner party which Voryn had oh-so-graciously agreed to host. As their Grandmaster sometimes had a grain of mercy for his brothers, he filled their goblets with the normal, somber-sweet reddish hue typical of the pepper-less Dagoth brandy. It was but a shade or two different from that of the pepper-infused brandy, and given the red-tinged candlelight splashed about the walls, one would find themselves extremely hard-pressed to tell the difference.

For the occasion, the normally-morose dining hall of Kogoruhn saw itself adorned with additional drapery; blightsilk embroidered with tiny sun motifs beside rotund, stylized depictions of the Dagoth scarabs, per Voryn’s eloquent speech on emphasis to the servants regarding the importance of appearances. All was made spic and span, for the Dagoths were of a like mind in the belief that everything had to be just so.

Things had gone exceedingly well. The first part of the dinner party went smoothly, and the Hlaalu traders had sipped the brandy before dinner was served–and then, they fled in terror once burn crept up on them, especially upon witnessing Voryn don a pleasant smile as he sipped from an especially large goblet.

“Is anything the matter? I _do_ hope that everything is to your liking,” Voryn remarked innocently to a wheezing, watery-eyed trader. (Perhaps he was laying it on a little too thickly, but he found it endlessly amusing to see his plans come to fruition–and a good part of that enjoyment stemmed, undeniably, from seeing pretentious n’wah-loving traders suffer.)

Once their unfortunate guests had cleared off, Voryn's brothers gaped at him incredulously, as if to ask him how he could do such a thing. Indeed--how could sweet, mild, even-tempered Voryn be capable of such a crime?

By now, however, Voryn knew well the minds of his brothers, and he could easily lodge a guess as to what they were thinking (though if he wished, he could hear their thoughts, and they his.) A small part of him lay in smug satisfaction beneath the facade and tempted as he was to laugh, Voryn didn’t wish to exacerbate the situation by rub salt into anyone’s wounds, as it were.

**“VORYN,”** Endus screeched,** “YOU’VE SPOILED. THE FUCKING. _BRANDY!”_**

“I did not spoil the_ fucking_ brandy, you fool,” replied an amused Voryn (though he seldom used or parroted such profanity.) Nevertheless, there was a waspish edge to his tone. He could not help but feel slightly miffed at Endus, for it was he who had employed Voryn’s help in the first place–-and Endus who had begged him to get rid of those pesky traders through _“whatever means necessary.”_

“…Or perhaps I should I say that I did not spoil _your _brandy, my dear Endus. Come, have a sip!”

Endus fixed his brother with a dubious, bleary-eyed glower as he clutched his goblet with a white-knuckled grip. To wound the brandy, it seemed, was to wound the pride of Dagoth Endus.

A pall of silence fell over the table, which was eventually broken when Gilvoth, ever the impatient one, reached over and snatched Endus’s goblet before taking a deep draw. “Piss on _you,”_ he bellowed into the goblet, “’S completely _fine!_”

Voryn pressed his fingers to his temples. He was beginning to feel as though he shouldn't have spared his brothers; that instead he should've forcede verybody to drink the pepper-brandy.

Sensing the potential for conflict, Vemyn and Odros frowned with perfect simultaneity–-as so often their actions were. However, it was Vemyn who spoke up, but in vain. Gilvoth made a rude, violent gesture with his hands, which ultimately proved to be the final grain of saltrice that broke the guar’s back.

“Now, see here–”

Incandescent with rage, Endus wasn’t particularly inclined to heed this warning. Though he was already quite cross with Voryn for putting pepper power in the brandy, he decided he’d deal with that matter later. Paying no attention to Vemyn’s attempt to mediate and circumvent a conflict, Endus then leapt over the table, launching himself toward Gilvoth.

Gilvoth, who’d had one too many already, was only too happy to oblige him. Robe-pulling, hissing, and snarling evolved into an outright scrap. The disagreement between the two ensued in a brutal, physical language where fists and feet spoke in lieu of words.

Voryn looked on, burying his face in his hands. He hadn’t meant to start a row!

Needless to say, the situation continued to escalate quickly, with House Dagoth’s secondmost firebrand, Uthol, joining the fray–and even Odros and Vemyn found themselves sucked into the chaos with their ill-fated attempts to separate the belligerent parties.

While the conflict certainly didn’t seem apt to solve itself, this had to stop. Voryn swore an oath to his grandmother, Maki, the previous Grandmistress, that he’d keep their House functioning at all costs.. Needless to say, the pile of brothers beating on each other didn’t strike Voryn as exceptionally functional. Oaths were grievous things, and it was not within the nature of any Dagoth to betray an oath of his own free will.

The faint sound of footsteps rose over the cacophony of the fight, and it did not take long for Araynys’s youthful, worry-etched features to appear in the doorway, in part, peering worriedly from Voryn to the cluster of angry, warring brothers.

Voryn shook his head at Araynys, who moved forward as though in protest until he stopped in his tracks.

_‘Don’t,’_ came Voryn’s voice the mindhold--and although the others could’ve heard it too, Voryn’s advice was otherwise lost in the din and hearkened by none, save Araynys. _‘I know of a way to end this. Fetch me a House-hammer, and be swift with this task. I shall meet you by the bells.’_

Araynys nodded, hurrying away. He was on a mission. He zipped through the corridors of Kogoruhn until he found what he sought–a large, two-handed hammer fashioned of a greyish metal whose surface bore geometric, labyrinthine etchings of a deep, somber vermilion color. Lugging the hammer all the way back to the dining room was no small task for Araynys, who was yet young and had always been particularly small in stature.

While Araynys procured the hammer, Voryn quietly murmured the incantation for a Muffle spell to quiet the sound of his movements, for he liked not the inevitability of being dragged into the conflict. For a few moments, it appeared as if the twins had managed to subdue Gilvoth by restraining him in a headlock. Odros’s elbow was roughly diagonal to Gilvoth’s chin while Vemyn gripped his ankles. Though the sight might seem cruel to an outsider, such measures were ultimately necessary when dealing with Gilvoth when was in a particularly drunken state. As he was now, Gilvoth cared little about anything or anybody, for his actions were governed chiefly by a dangerous combination of intoxication and raw instinct.

Uthol allowed it for as long as it took for him to take a few breaths, though being the instigator that he was, he lost no time in delivering his knee into Vemyn’s back, which sent Vemyn toppling forward into Odros, who then became disoriented, thus freeing the angered Gilvoth. Meanwhile, Endus lay sprawled out on the floor with a bloody nose, apparently having been knocked unconscious for his transgressions against Gilvoth, but that did little to placate him. Now, Gilvoth had a new target: the twins, because they'd dared to restrain him.

Meanwhile, Voryn crept safely away from the conflict and into the grand dining area, where he was soon joined by an exhausted Araynys, who eagerly let his brother relieve of the cumbersome hammer.

Positioning himself before the bells, a beleaguered Voryn Voryn took the large hammer by the handle and swung it with all his might, hitting the appropriate bells to form what he hoped would be a calming sequence. The mighty, tranquil reverberations caused the two to wobble a bit (as the vehemence of Voryn’s strikes were somewhat reflected in the sound.) The great, reverberating melody filled him before fading and leaving only a calm, centered sense of awareness in its place.

Just as the Indorils had their gongs, which they stuck when they sought to garner attention at a meeting, the Dagoths had their bells–-bells which served a myriad of purposes. When struck properly, they could be used as a beacon to guide ancestral spirits to the correct places, as well as command and summon the attention of Dagoths living and unliving alike, and so too did it pacify them. As Voryn learned long ago, it was unwise to underestimate the importance of what Gilvoth had fondly dubbed _“bells and smells.”_

A few moments passed, and it seemed that the oppressive tangled net of anger had been chased away by the great noise of the bells. Eventually, Odros (carrying an unconscious Endus, who was placed on a nearby chaise until he later regained consciousness), Vemyn, Uthol, and Gilvoth dispersed before they came shuffling into the dining hall. Each of them seemed relieved, and Voryn noted that the air the room felt somewhat freshened. Seeing his brothers return to a peaceable state at last, Araynys nearly doubled over with relief before taking a seat at the table.

A gaggle of stony-faced chefs and servants laid had since laid the first course of the meal out on the table. Voryn didn’t realize how hungry he was until he tore through a lukewarm bowl of vegetable stew with garlic-braised nix-hound meat. Much of the enjoyment he derived from eating came simply from the sensations associated with the deed, as well as the various aromas of certain foods. As Araynys had once said, _“the only things in Kogoruhn that have a better sniffer than brother Voryn are the ash-pups!”_

At that moment, the wide-arched double doors the dining hall were thrown open and in strolled Tureynul, who had his nose half-buried in some musty old tome, as was his wont. Tureynul seated himself beside Gilvoth promptly before helping himself to a kagouti filet. Voryn concluded that he’d either come to gloat, or that he wise to have avoided the scuffle, although he remained unsure which of these was the case.

After taking a few bites, Tureynul grunted, pushing at a crusty dumpling with his fork. “Food’s cold.”

“It would’ve been warm, had Gilvoth, Uthol and Endus allowed us to begin the meal on time,” Odros replied mildly.

Uthol threw him a black look.

Voryn looked up at his meal clearly beleaguered and frowned at his brothers. “Don’t.”

The meal continued in silence until Gilvoth piped up, perhaps out of the desire to steer the subject away from the earlier brawl, which loomed long on everyone’s minds.

“Hey, Voryn. You gonna throw that poisoned shite out, or what?”

“It isn’t poisoned,” Voryn quipped irritably. “The recipe for this batch has simply been…_altered_. Nothing more.”

Gilvoth snorted contemptuously. “Yeah, well, it might as well be poisoned!”

Araynys tried not to roll his eyes. Gilvoth glared at Araynys threateningly but fell silent for another few minutes before he noticed that Voryn was drinking out of the same goblet he’d used earlier before the traders had fled–and it was not long before the others noticed as well.

“Is that…?”

Voryn rose his brows. “Is it _what?”_

Araynys clasped his hands over his mouth, and Gilvoth outright gawked. Uthol’s mouth curved into a near-perfect_ ‘o’_ shape, in lieu of the words_ ‘oh shite’ _while Tureynul seemed either completely engrossed in his book (or he simply pretended not to notice.) The twins’ eyes widened, and they both shuddered.

“O gods, Voryn, don’t _drink_ that–”

_“Ewww!!”_

With a recalcitrant smirk, Voryn leaned back in his chair, gripping his goblet defiantly before taking a massive draw from the goblet containing a large quantity of the pepper-infused brandy. Though it was an ecletic combination, Voryn had half a mind to ask Endus about producing a batch of Special Brandy with the use of the peppers when he regained consciousness.


	2. The Ash-Puppies

From the beginning, it seemed that the eldest brothers--the twins, Odros and Vemyn, had been predestined to remain at odds with each other per their efforts to attain the position of Grandmaster. House Dagoth was more of a meritocracy--but there remained an implied, unspoken expectation that the eldest of the main family would put their feet into the boots of leadership. At the time, Voryn had been far too young to be concerned with such things--as well as having been all but consumed by his studies. In all eyes except his grandmother's, he felt as if he could've just as easily been mistaken for a piece of furniture except on special occasions. Voryn was a middle child, so nobody had really expected that much of him--least of all that in the coming years, he would go on to become Grandmaster.

In those days, Odros excelled in all things, apparently having the upper hand over nearly everything Vemyn did (although he was not boastful, for being openly boastful was neither his wont nor was it the manner in which any self-respecting son of House Dagoth would typically conduct himself). Despite the constant endeavors of one to outdo the other, the closeness of the twins remained undiminished. The only foreseeable roadblock on the eldest brother's (as Odros was indeed older than Vemyn by roughly five minutes, thank you very much!) path to ascendance was the large House-scarabs. These special insects were endemic to the ashen regions dominating the circumference of Red Mountain, possessing exceptionally tough carapaces that usually harbored an iridescent sheen once they matured, although the hatchlings started out as a rather dull and unassuming greyish colour.

Ever had these beetles been held sacred by the dour-faced witch-warriors of eld--a group of ancestors that had ultimately conglomerated to form House Dagoth. They took the Mountain as their namesake and its scarabs as their shield-symbol. Not unlike their beloved scarabs, they became widely feared (and misunderstood) by their fellow Chimer. As remnants of a once-holy and now-obsolete ritual, the scarabs came to enjoy a relatively easy life of assisting those in pursuit of the healing arts, for which many of House Dagoth's ancestors had become renowned. However, most other housemer tended to view the beetles as an abomination; condemning their formerly-held ritual status; instead denouncing them as filthy beasts in the wake of cremation-related funerary rites being adopted by the settled folk. The scarabs' tendency to consume carrion remained a regular source of alarm, morbid fascination, and superstition well into the Third Era--superstition which Voryn himself knew to be completely unfounded. As the Sharmat, perhaps compelled by subconscious bitterness (and perhaps unintentionally), the scarabs' behaviors would come to eclipse the accusations of those who abhorred them.

The fear of the scarabs itself was like an incurable disease that even deigned to "infect" Voryn's own kin. Odros, though he denied it passionately, was mortally afraid of the beetles, and found himself accompanied in this sentiment. Voryn, it seemed, was the only person who really cared much about the House scarabs, treating them neither with disgust nor idle indifference. He even went so far as to resurrect an obscure term for them that had been affectionately coined by one of his ancestors: "ash-puppies."

As an infant, Voryn was inexorably drawn to their faint chittering and hissing sounds. There was something decidedly therapeutic (and fascinating) about the sounds that came from the scarab-pens (near which he was forbidden to stray, for the hands a child were deemed unprofessional and thus unfit to handle the scarabs.) All of Voryn's family soon became (and would remain) hard-pressed to keep him away from the scarab-pens of Kogoruhn. He had been much shorter then, and ever light of build, making it far easier to dart between the legs of unsuspecting guardsmer stationed about the area.

When nobody was paying much attention to him (which was a regular occurrence--for unlike Uthol and Gilvoth, Voryn was neither a loud nor a quarrelsome child), he would steal away from his study, as swift as he was quiet. Others didn't notice that he was gone, much less that he had actually been there in the first place. Though normally a prudent little fellow, the young Voryn easily abandoned caution to the winds when faced with the excitement accompanying the notion that he was, in fact, breaking a rule by sneaking into Kogoruhn's scarab-pens--and goodness, it even involved swiping his aunt's spare key!! Today, he noticed, the key had been left out the open. While it was an unusual occurrence, Voryn decided not to question the good fortune given to him by Azura, Mephala, and Boethiah, uttering his thanks in the form of a subdued, whispered prayer. After all, it was best not to look a gift-guar in the mouth!

As Voryn crept toward the pens while holding his breath, he marveled at the exited, incoherent chattering sounds they made; how the "howling" of the ash-puppies--his ash-puppies--augmented the song, forming a chord of its own. Heedlessly, he stepped into one of the ring-shaped pit-pens and approached the glimmering sea of red-upon-grey. Voryn looked upon the busy creatures with pity. How could anyone hate them? What had they ever done wrong? They were delightful, and as far as he was concerned, could do no evil of their own accord.

A cluster of tiny, darker carapaces nearby diffused easily, leaving a clear patch in the ash-sands for Voryn to sit--and sit he did! Upon seating himself, he fancied (as all children like to do. pretending that they are ancient heroes whilst re-enacting within their minds their own versions of the mythic events surrounding said heroes) that he was the Prophet Veloth, witnessing seas and lakes part and fold over upon themselves, heralding the coming of the Chimer to the promised land.

As soon as Voryn had made himself comfortable (as comfortable as he could be--for he was seated upon a pile of ash-sand, after all!), he began to scoop up little piles of the grayish sand, feeling the fine particulate seep between his fingers while trying not to think of how he'd go about washing the ugly, sootlike stains it left against his mirror-gold complexion. He didn't mind overmuch--but others, he knew, would mind a great deal.

The song quieted itself to something like a hymn laced with that curious, far-off drumbeat as he began to gather little piles of ash-sand about himself before shaping them into miniature, less-detailed versions of Kogoruhn. The puppies, he decided, deserved little clansteads of their own. The scarabs watched the child with subdued interest from a moderate distance, forming a protective sort of ring about him as he worked. Whenever one of them would approach and attempt to climb all over his unfinished work, he gently scooped the insect up, forming a protective cup with his palms before placing it elsewhere on the ash-sands, perhaps giving it a reassuring pat or two. "It isn't finished yet," he quipped, seeing chromatic reflections of himself--numerous and tiny--within the insects' huge, compounded eyes. “When they are, I'll let you know!"

Voryn knew he had to work quickly. He didn't know how much time he had left, or how much there had been to begin with. As a finishing touch, he fashioned a few miniature turret-like structures. Then, he hastily placed one of the beetles before his work, folding his arms. "I need you to inspect this for me."

The scarab scuttled, somewhat apprehensively, toward the structure before disappearing inside it. Voryn had made sure to leave a little hollowed-out dome in the center for the mother-scarabs to lay their eggs in. A few moments passed before the scarab scurried back out, pausing a few inches in front of it.

“Well?” Voryn demanded, his tone now tinctured with impatience. “What do you all think?”

All was oppressively silent, and nothing moved. In those few moments, Voryn's shoulders sagged. He prepared himself for rejection, or perhaps some sort of awful, bloody reprisal. Perhaps he deserved as much for bursting in there, making a ferocious racket and arbitrarily digging holes in their habitat...

Suddenly, the ash-puppies began to cluster together, collectively emitting a terrifying, hissing and creaking sound. The swarm seemed to conglomerate into one massive shape with a life of its own. The might carried by each dazzling carapace promised strength while the flight of their thin, gauzy wings afforded the insects a profoundly graceful, fluid motion fit to shame water as they descended upon Voryn and his castles.

“Please don't do that!” Voryn cried out angrily. “You'll ruin it!”

Voryn's distraught cries echoed through the halls of Kogoruhn, drawing abrupt attention to his absence in the study, which was soon counted by the sound of swift and numerous footfalls. Odros, Vemyn--both of them (whom Voryn always a terrible time telling apart!)--along with the other five. Tureynul's thin spectacles were askew, and at his side was Uthol, who had the infant Araynys swaddled in his arms. Araynys began to scream loudly, as though he could somehow sense that Voryn was in danger.

Odros, Vemyn, Uthol, Gilvoth, Tureynul, Endus and Araynys looked on in horror as the protesting silhouette of their brother was enveloped by a swathe of ruby-red carapaces, bent black legs, and translucent blue-and-green wings. They feared that their brother had been consumed by the horde.

Panic-stricken, Odros found himself too afraid to approach. Araynys let out another sharp cry, startling the scarabs and causing some of them to clear away from Voryn. Though the scarabs seldom ate of living flesh, the brothers were absolutely certain that they'd find the hideous, picked-over remains of what had moments ago been Voryn. Odros had seen it before; an image that persisted eternally within his nightmares, something he supposed that the Weaver of the Panoply Herself had hand-picked to torment him with.

Naturally, the throng was caught extremely off guard when they heard Voryn shrieking with laughter rather than horror. When he stood up and approached his brothers, Voryn's robes appeared as though sewn together by clusters of many large, excitedly vibrating rubies. Behind him were the silhouettes of the ash-castles he’d crafted for them, immaculate and unspoiled.

Odros, standing frozen in his guilt for not having intervened sooner in the face of danger, was soon consoled by his younger brother's words: “Be kind to them, brother, for they are like mer, and heed best those who are mindful of their nature.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -The original idea for the Dagoth scarabs is something that @NeoQwerty and I dreamed up.

**Author's Note:**

> -I try to base the personalities of the Dagoth brothers somewhat on their frew scraps of dialogue and actions in-game. For example, Endus being the brandy guy is something that happens in-game iirc.


End file.
